


Waiting

by Lirendil



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirendil/pseuds/Lirendil
Summary: With Tracer and Widowmaker, it always feels like a waiting game -- wondering when they will find themselves at odds once more, wondering when one will best the other and bring their enmity to a cold, deadly end. The suspense is part of the thrill, but Widowmaker isn't exactly known for her patience, and Tracer begins to question what exactly she's waiting for.





	Waiting

They collide as they always do.

Tracer races up to the rooftop, guns twirling in her hands as Widowmaker spots her with a grimace. She looks up from her rifle and rolls away just before Tracer can tackle her. She runs. Tracer pursues.

It always takes time for the deadlock to break, for something to change the tide of their skirmishes. The arrival of backup scaring one away, or saving the other. Try as they might, they can never quite pin each other down.

Until one day, Tracer slips.

Her back hits the ground with a painful thud. She grunts as a boot presses down on her chronal accelerator, muzzle of a rifle digging under her chin. Her eyes are fierce as she glares up at Widowmaker, clinging to every shred of defiance within her even with bruises on her cheeks and death staring her in the face.

It had only been a matter of time.

“Do it.” The words are hardly above a whisper for the gun against her throat, but she knows they were audible as Widowmaker tightens her grip around her weapon. Tracer shudders a shallow breath, waiting for the bullet. She wonders how much it will hurt. She wonders how long Widowmaker will want to watch her suffer.

The rifle is pulled back.

The boot moves off of her chest.

Tracer gasps an inhale now that her lungs have been released, but she doesn't move, looking at Widowmaker in confusion. In the dark sky, Tracer can see what must be a Talon jet hovering above the next rooftop over.

Widowmaker rests her rifle on her shoulder. “Not yet.” She turns and grapples away.

Tracer isn't sure what just happened, isn't sure why.

 _Not yet_.

It sounds like a threat.

\--

The next time they see each other, it is Widowmaker who finds her first.

Tracer inches along the exterior of a warehouse, trying to stay quiet so as not to alert anyone to her presence. The twilight over the compound makes it easier for her to sneak around, but she knows that means someone else can surprise her as well. She is almost at the entrance when there is a crackle in her communicator.

_“Get out! Our location has been compromised. It's a trap.”_

Tracer feels a chill up her spine and glances around. Surely, if she had been spotted she would be dead by now--

Her eyes alight on a slender figure crouching on a crate at the edge of the compound. Lights suddenly illuminate for the evening and Widowmaker’s form is clear as day. She has her finger on the trigger but isn't firing. Tracer’s mind flies back to the strange hesitation from their last encounter. _Not yet_. She wonders if Widowmaker is remembering the same because the woman quickly unscopes and retreats into the shadows.

Tracer doesn't feel lucky enough to pursue.

\--

The hall is uncomfortably bright as Tracer blinks across the linoleum, the need to hurry conflicting with the necessity of quiet. The area appears empty, but Tracer isn't even sure she could hear much through her heartbeat pounding in her ears. This mission is a contest, a race against time to beat Talon to the shipment a group of omnic terrorists have stashed here. Tracer had found her team the way in, but now she needs a way out.

Her chronal accelerator whines. Tracer curses under her breath. She's out of juice.

Footsteps are heard in the distance -- marching, really. Tracer can't tell how many omnics are approaching, but it's enough for her to be quite screwed.

All the exits thus far have been barred. Talon certainly needed a way in as well and Tracer wonders if someone of theirs is stuck in here along with her. There aren't many more places to go at this point. Tracer turns down a hall away from the marching only to hear another set of steps in that direction.

 _Trapped_.

There is another corridor ahead, one she already knows is a dead end but she doesn't know what else to do. She heads for it and turns the corner.

Runs into a tall woman with a very big gun.

Tracer freezes, staring at the yellow eyes that are just as surprised as hers.

Widowmaker finally sighs. “If you want to live, follow me.”

There is a negligibly lower chance of dying at Widowmaker’s hands, but it's still something. Tracer races after her down the hall until she dives into a dark room. It is small and dusty, a supply closet, Tracer realizes once they are locked inside. The only light is from the tiny window at the top of the door. It illuminates Widowmaker’s features, inches from her own.

Tracer bites her lip anxiously, all too aware of how being this close is sending her adrenaline levels sky-high. It is an uneasy truce they have, but there's no other choice. Tracer counts the seconds, hoping this choice in hiding spot will make the run-in worth it. She shifts uncomfortably and gets distracted by the way her arm accidentally drags against Widowmaker’s. The woman looks at her, instinctively on edge, and Tracer immediately understands. Every touch between them has always meant pain. She opens her mouth to assuage the anxiety, but a cold finger on her lips stops her.

“Shh.”

Widowmaker pulls her hand back and waits until the sound of marching omnics recedes. At last she opens the door, and the two tumble out into the empty hall.

Tracer brushes herself off, squinting at Widowmaker as her eyes readjust to the lighting. “Uh… thanks,” she offers, not sure how to put into words how confused she is that Widowmaker of all people has just saved her life.

“Don't mention it.” Widowmaker turns to walk away.

But Tracer has questions and begins to follow. “Why are you--”

Widowmaker whirls around and glares down with fiery eyes. “I said _don't mention it_.”

This time, Tracer sees the command for what it is and lets her go.

\--

It is some time before they begin to run into each other again. Tracer wonders whether Widowmaker has been thinking about their encounters, each one becoming even stranger than the last.

Because she has.

There is something she is missing about Widowmaker -- a puzzle piece that she can't quite find. It stills that trigger finger and lets her slip away every time they see each other now. It softens those once predatory eyes even when she practically lets herself get caught. She doesn't know what it is exactly, but it's a glimmer of something curious. Something new. She wants to believe it might even be a shred of light that she can hang onto.

She wants to hope.

\--

Tracer stands just inside the entrance of an abandoned apartment. There has been chatter that a sniper was holed up in here and Tracer had said she would take care of it.

And then promptly turned off her comm.

She walks further into the apartment and just around a corner is Widowmaker leaning against a wall, holding her rifle at her side. She could easily pull it up and fire, but she doesn't even make a pretense this time. Instead, she keeps her weapon hanging loosely and saunters over.

“Tiens tiens. So we meet again.” She almost seems amused. She had undoubtedly expected this.

“Funny how it keeps happening.” _Because you're not killing me_.

Widowmaker stops just in front of her, scanning her eyes. Tracer knows they are full of questions and decides she wants answers this time.

“Why are you doing this? Why do you keep leaving me alive?” It is a given that Widowmaker could have her dead in a second flat. It is clear that Talon would like nothing more than to kill her on sight. And it is obvious that they are both keenly aware of the disconnect.

Widowmaker looks at Tracer for a few seconds, gauging something. Then she shakes her head and begins to walk past. “Another time, chérie.”

But Tracer grabs her arm and stops her. “No.” Her voice is quiet but firm. “Now.”

Widowmaker is still for a moment, and Tracer wonders if she's pushed too far. But Widowmaker simply tilts her head to face her with knowing eyes.

“And you?”

Tracer is silent with the unexpected turnaround, processing the sudden realization that she herself had given up every chance at a takedown. That she had never even thought about her own motives. But Widowmaker isn’t finished.

“Why would I kill you if I don't want to?”

Something stirs in Tracer’s chest at the low words. She holds Widowmaker’s sober gaze and feels as though she is at last beginning to understand something crucial. Something mirrored within herself. Something that answers the question she had neglected to direct inwards until now.

“Then what do you want?” But Tracer thinks she already knows.

Widowmaker’s eyes flick across her face but she doesn't reply, doesn't move. Tracer can hear her inhale softly in the quiet, although she isn't sure she herself is breathing anymore. She swallows thickly, loosens her grip into something merely tentative. She feels terribly out of her depth, proximity making her nerves reel -- but she is also resolved to embrace this moment, to see if she can glimpse the depth of this mysterious emotion inside Widowmaker she knows is just out of reach. That Tracer has somehow triggered it is inexplicable. It is perhaps even terrifying. But she finds that she wants nothing more than to seize it.

Widowmaker pulls away. Tracer’s eyes widen, worried she has been scared off.

But then Widowmaker smiles slowly, fingers briefly lifting to Tracer’s chin. “Not yet.”

As she walks out, Tracer finds the corners of her lips curling upwards as well.

 _Not yet_. It sounds like a promise.

One Tracer decides is worth waiting for.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first bit of Widowtracer I wrote about a year ago, and I've at last gotten around to making an account and posting. I've since written much else, so we'll see if I can put something together to share. Thanks for the read!


End file.
